


Blood Under the Bridge

by fictitiously



Category: Southland
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Post Finale, john's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiously/pseuds/fictitiously
Summary: (“Don’t let the job go to your head.” It’s something all new cops are told. Ben Sherman isn’t new, anymore. It’s not the job that’s getting to his head, anymore.) Ben and Sammy, after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post season finale. I couldn’t figure out a realistic way to keep Cooper alive and still a cop, so he’s dead in this. (Sorry!) . His death is not a major plot point of the story, since the main focus is Ben/Sammy .  
> It’s only a small scene, but this is my first time writing any type of porn.  
> The first line in parentheses is supposed to be like the voice over at the beginning of the episodes.  
> Title from the Frightened Rabbit song.

 

I failed you, You failed me too,

I need you, You swear you need me too,

I see you, You see me too,

-Manchester Orchestra

 

 

 

_(“Don’t let the job go to your head.” It’s something all new cops are told. Ben Sherman isn’t new, anymore. It’s not the job that’s getting to his head, anymore.) Ben and Sammy, after._

 

 

 

When Ben buys the house in Castaic, Sammy helps him move in. He sits on Ben’s new couch with a beer in his hand, rolling his eyes as Ben hangs art on the wall. “You’re not in Silver Lake anymore, Sherman. Get that artsy fartsy bullshit out of here or did a bunny make that just for you?”

Ben gives him the finger and walks to the fridge to grab a beer.

Ben opens his beer and sinks down on the couch next to his partner.  Sammy starts rambling about Nate and how big he’s getting and how depressing it is; about Tammi and how she’s somehow becoming even crazier and bitchier every time they interact.

He shifts his angle toward Ben. “So tell me about some of the chicks in your harem, dude. Let me live vicariously through you, brother.”

Ben laughs. “ Remember that one girl, the one who had the naked neighbor that kept pissing in that little red bucket?”

Sammy smacks him on the leg and shakes his head. “Dude, I thought she was in high school, are you serious?”

He sips his beer. “Relax, she’s 22.”

Sammy gets up to get another drink. “I’m jealous, man. I’m jealous.”

There’s a sort of sadness to him when he sits back down on the couch. He’s a little close this time; Ben’s arm is barely an inch away from Sammy’s leg.

“Dude, just because you have a kid doesn’t mean you can’t have fun when Nate’s with Tammi.”

Sammy shakes his head solemnly, there’s something he isn’t saying. But the game comes on and the conversation turns to the latest Youtube video of Dewey screaming “fat ass” some lady who stole 12 McChickens from McDonalds.”

_Fucking Youtube._

 

 

 

 

He’s not sure when or how he got to this point, became this person. Months ago he was willing to do anything to protect his partner. Now, he’s on the floor of the rooftop parking lot with Sammy’s blood on his hands and his own in his mouth.

There’s no fixing this, he knows that. They’re supposed to save each other not just themselves.

He feels bad, he does. He feels bad that the nanny got hurt, that Nate was home, that he almost started a gang war accidentally. But one thing John taught him was to never feel sorry for protecting himself. He tried to help Sammy by lying during the investigation. But he wasn’t going to screw himself by letting the tape get out.

He lays on the ground as Sammy walks away. He just lies there tasting the blood in his mouth. He waits a few minutes, gets in his car and leave. He pulls over around the corner and pukes onto the boulevard. 

He’s only in the door for a few minutes when Dewey calls him about John.

The bile rises up his throat before he hangs up the phone.

 

 

 

_Even in death, John makes things complicated._

_He’s in the hospital for exactly a week before he goes.  Four days in a coma, three awake._

_The other guy lives._

_John’s only awake for a few hours when he hears whispers of an indictment. He only lasts three days more._

_Ben never went to visit_

Somehow, in the turn of events following Sammy finding out and John’s death, Ben winds up back at Hollywood division. He’s back at his training ground and partnering with none other than fucking Dewey.

The first day they ride together is batshit insane. It’s filled with so much bizarre bullshit that Dewey actually seems like a normal, sane human.  It’s the perfect example of what Coop used to say “the greatest show on earth.”

The first call of the day is Denise; Dewey’s been trying to get Denise to go to a meeting for years. But now Denise has took a shit on the front step of the Korean Deli that Sammy used to want to go to all the time.  Dewey makes her pick it up with a paper towel, makes Sherman cuff her and tells her to lay down in the backseat on her stomach. “No shit stains on my seats!” he yells and slams the door. They drive a block down and he turns the corner and pulls over. “I’m already sick of smelling your dirty ass. Go sober the fuck up, Denise.” He un-cuffs her and pulls her out of the seat with a hard yank.

Dewey shakes his head as they drive away. “Did Coop ever tell you the story about the chick who made her ex drink her piss?”

Ben laughs. “Right after he told me about the guy who scooped his balls out with a spoon.”

He shakes his head. “That’s good ol’ Denise.”

“No shit.”

He thinks about the time that he got carried away chasing a kid who threw a soda at him and ended up caught on a fence. “Forget stepping on your meat, kid. You’re gonna impale your balls and shit.” He makes Ben walk around with a big rip in his uniform and points it out every chance he gets.

 

 

 

 

_A couple of days before the altercation with Tammi, Sammy calls him, shitfaced. He comes over and the next thing Ben knows, he’s crying. He’s not sure what to do._

_But he’s holding Sammy close to his chest before he can even think._

_The next day, they’re both quiet in squad car. Ben wants to know if he’s okay._

_But he doesn’t ask._

 

 

 

 

 

When he and Brooke break up, he doesn’t go see Elena. He goes to the bar and gets drunk.

His stomach burns and he’s not sure how much whiskey he’s drank. He calls John.

He only lets it ring once before he panics and hangs up.

John doesn’t call back.

He calls Sammy. He lets it go to voicemail. He doesn’t realize until a few seconds after the beep that he never hung up but didn’t say a word.

Sammy calls him back.

Ben doesn’t remember exactly what he said. He remembers Sammy coming in the bar and peeling him off the stool. He remembers slumping against the passenger seat door, Sammy telling him to pick a person and stick to them, so he doesn’t have to put up with this bullshit again.

He wakes up on Sammy’s couch the next morning, in Sammy’s clothes, covered with a soft blue blanket with puppies on it. “Shit.” He mumbles as he scans the room for any sign of what happened.

Sammy walks into the room, water and an ibuprofen in hand, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking shit show, you know that?” he hands them to Ben.

Ben rolls his heads and throws the pill in his mouth, takes a long swig from the bottle and swallows hard. He looks down at the black sweatpants he’s dressed in.

“Don’t worry, Sherman. I didn’t take advantage of you. You puked all over your clothes. They’re washed and in the bathroom, kid.”

Ben laughs. “Thanks.”

Sammy takes him to pick up his car.

The ride is quiet.

He doesn’t say thank you.

 

 

 

 

_He’s been riding with Dewey for a month._

_John’s been dead for a month._

_He hasn’t talked to Sammy in a month and a week._

John was never a talker. He talked shit, wanted to know shit about Ben, would reveal big things about himself in a small way. But he wasn’t the type to spend hours talking about his feelings and shit.

He liked to bust Ben’s balls about keeping to himself. Every once and a while, he’d sigh and mumble “fucking Canadian,” Ben would laugh.

When they did talk about things that mattered, he wouldn’t talk them to death. He’d push but he never pushed too far. Ben didn’t push back, either, only when it came to the pills.

When he found out John was gay, he felt important. He felt Important that he told him, even if he told him without actually telling him.

 

 

Dewey is an open book. Dewey is a loud mouth, hot tempered, livewire. Dewey is every metaphor to describe someone who shouldn’t be a good cop. Dewey wasn’t a good cop before. But now, Ben’s pretty surprised. He’s still “America’s most viewed cop”, three Youtube videos in the time they’ve partnered with each other.

They’re not really _bad._   He’s not doing anything _wrong._ They’re just, well, _unflattering._ Dewey might be a better cop but he’s still an obnoxious, loud-mouthed, inappropriate son of a bitch.

After the McDonald’s video happens, the next one consists of the infamous Office Dudek dancing around with a twelve year old wanna-be banger’s bike. The kid ran his foot over, so Dewey tackled him off the bike, lifts it over his head and says “You wanna bang, bitch? Bang without your bike motherfucker! I got your bike mother fucker!” all while sticking out his freakishly long tongue. There were a lot of comments on the video about his tongue. It was kind of disturbing.

But Dewey had his back. Dewey’s speaking voice was practically screaming at the top of his lungs. His driving earned himself about 1,000 violations. And all the “trust in God” and twelve-stepper bullshit drove Ben insane.

Dewey’s had to have heard stories about what happened with him and Sammy.

But he doesn’t ask questions. The first day that they ride together, Dewey pats him hard on the shoulder “Clean slate, ok motherfucker?”

“For you too, motherfucker” Ben says back and shoves him.

 

 

 

 

 

But Sammy is different. It's all extremes between them. Some days, the patrol car is never quiet. The conversation comes easy, Sammy's always talking shit and Ben's always throwing it right back. But it's all in good fun. Other days , it's tense. It's quiet except for a few words that they're forced today. It all comes down to trust. And all it comes down to Ben. And it all comes to trust. 

_Ben blames John for that._

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been two and a half months since he spoke to Sammy. But who’s counting? _(He knows the exact number of days.)_

Ben is in bed with a woman whose name he doesn’t know _(doesn’t matter)_. He hears a scream coming from down the street.

He tells her to stay put, shrugs on his jeans and runs toward the scream. But the screams stop.

He gets there too late. The woman is lying naked on her kitchen floor, blood pouring out of her neck. He notices something carved into her arm as he calls it in. “NBK.”

He’s almost hoping Sammy is the one who shows up. _(He is.)_

His face stays blank when he speaks. “What happened?”

Ben swallows. It’s been a long time since they spoke.

71 days. But who’s counting? _(He knows down to the hour.)_

“I heard the screams. Came running but it was too late.”

Sammy stares at him. His stomach turns. It’s been a long time since they saw each other.

_(58 days. He’s been counting)_

Sammy walks closer to the body. “You know her?” He kneels and looks up at Ben. “Sleeping with her?”

Ben lets out a small, angry laugh. “No. I was down the street, heard the screams. Came running, like I said.”

Sammy’s face is still blank. “Sleeping with someone down the street?”

Ben nods.

Sammy grabs the girl’s bruised, limp wrist and inspects the letters on it. He looks up at Ben, his dark eyes are burning. “You get someone to write this too, Sherman?”

Ben doesn’t say anything. He deserved that.

Sammy’s partner, a guy named Puente, raises his eyebrow and asks Ben a few more pointless questions. Sammy doesn’t say another word.

 

 

Two days later, Puente calls. There are two more bodies. Two more girls with NBK carved into their wrists, but these are an the other side of the city. He wants to talk to Ben again, says he’ll come alone, just wants to see if he saw anything unusual, if there’s something they missed.

Puente comes to the station. “Call me Gil.” He shakes Ben’s hand and thanks him.

The conversation is very informal. He asks Ben what time he arrived at the house down the street. If he saw anyone lurking, if he saw anyone as he ran down to Jessica Hilbert’s apartment.  The conversation turns light pretty quickly. He asks how long he knew the woman he was staying with, Rebecca Johnson. Ben laughs. “I didn’t even know her name was Rebecca until right now.”

Gil laughs. And then he remembers.

“The dog was barking.” Ben says. “Rebecca’s dog, it was barking its head off. I looked out the window and there was a car driving off. I was pretty drunk. But I think it was a black, maybe dark green Explorer.  “

Gil’s eyes widened. “The second victim, her neighbor says the same car.”  He pats Ben’s shoulder. “Thanks man.”

That night, Ben has a dream. In the dream, a black explorer is circling his block. And it’s screeching gets louder and louder. He runs out to look and Sammy is driving the car.

_Sammy drives the car straight into him._

He calls Gil as soon as he wakes up. “Something was wrong with the breaks.”

“Exactly. Yeah. Like someone who breaks too hard all the time.”

“Thanks man.”

Gil hangs up.

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning there’s another body. This one was just like the first, way outside of NBK territory, closer to Hollywood then any of the rest.

Ben and Dewey stop for lunch at the Mexican place off of Sunset. Ben’s paying ( Ben always pays) when he hears it and turns.

A black explorer, with screeching breaks.

“That’s the car.” He’s running to the squad car. Dewey’s still shoveling chicken mole in his mouth. “Dewey, get the fuck in the car!”

He’s practically moving when Dewey jumps in.

He calls Gil as they follow the car. They’re two cars behind the Ford, but it’s still in their line of sight. They see it but the driver doesn’t see them.

Then the two other cars turn.

The driver shoots. Dewey fires back.

 

 

_Sammy Bryant didn’t go to work that day. Sammy was in court, trying to get custody of his son._

He has to be back at court in an hour when he hears gunshots from a block away from where he’s eating lunch.

He sees smoke when he comes out of the restaurant. He sees smoke, a smashed up green Explorer and a squad car.

Someone’s lying on the ground.

He runs.

The closer he gets, the more sure he is

Ben's lying on the ground, blood pouring out of his stomach.

Sammy Bryant’s face is the last thing Ben sees before everything goes black.

The last thing he feels is Sammy’s cold hands covering the hole in his chest.

 

 

_The first day they partner together, Ben is more intimidated then he lets on. He wonders how much it fucks a person up, the death of a partner. How fucked up must Sammy be, putting the uniform back on._

_Sammy smiles at him and his stomach turns. He didn’t expect this, Sammy’s casual openness. He’s sarcastic and busts his balls like John did, but there’s a difference in his tone. There’s a surprising light to his voice, sparkle in his eyes. He’s almost nonchalant about doing the job, it comes so easy. After all he’s been through, it probably was._

 

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up in the hospital, Chloe and Olivia are sitting beside him. Chloe looks pale and is squeezing his hand tight. Olivia gasps loudly and starts to cry. 

“What…did they..” his voice catches in his throat. His mouth is sour, his throat is dry, and his head feels foggy. His body feels numb except for the subtle burning in his stomach.

Chloe shakes her head. “They got the guy. Mom went to get a coffee. “

Olivia huffs. “More importantly, how are you feeling?”

Ben laughs, “Like I got shot.”

He’s not in pain, thanks to whatever they have pumping through his veins. He just feels weak, cold, tired. He wants to ask more questions but the thought of opening his mouth again is exhausting.

His mom comes back a few minutes later and gushes over him for what seems like forever.

“Your partner’s here, he hasn’t left since you both got here.” She touches his hand gently and smiles.

He laughs and winces from the surprising pain in his gut. “Dewey?”

“No, the other one” she smiles, “he keeps asking about you.”

_The way he feels when Sammy walks in the room is more uncomfortable than the feeling of the wound in his stomach._

At first, he doesn’t come closer, doesn’t say anything.

He looks taller standing in the doorway, half of his body covered by the shadow of the door. He sent his mom and sisters to get something to eat.  And the room seems so much smaller now that they’re alone.

Ben speaks first, more like whispers, “Was it… was it him?”

Sammy moves closer. His lip is swollen just a little bit and there’s dried blood in the corner of his mouth. The corner of his mouth ticks up a little. But his eyes are dark, pointed low to the ground. He doesn’t look at him when he speaks. “It was him. You got him.”

Sammy doesn’t sit; he just stands close, almost hovering near the bed. He’s playing with his hands, sliding his fingers into each other. His knuckles are purple.

They’re both quiet for a few minutes. The buzzing of the machines seems like it’s getting louder and louder.

After a few minutes, Sammy sits. He sounds heavy when he sits. He sits with a thud and a sigh and his hand flat against the very edge of the bed.

“They all had ties to Tito’s crew. It was a revenge thing for the shooting last week. The girls, two of them were NBK girlfriends, two were sisters.” He’s talking fast and low. He inhales.

Ben looks up at him, “You don’t have to stay.”

Sammy’s still staring at his hands, “I know I don’t have to.” He winces a little when he says “have”.

 

 

 

 

 

Ben’s been home for almost a week.

His mother tried getting him to stay with her but he’d never stay in that house. Not with his father still around.

The day he comes home, Gil stops by. He shakes his hand and thanks him for everything, asks him if he’s ok.

He’s on his way out the door when he stops and looks back at Ben. “He asked about you.”

Chloe and Olivia come over a few times a day, make sure he can get around and that he takes his meds.

Dewey comes by after shift three or four times, talks some shit about riding in a u-boat alone _(“I never thought I’d fucking miss you, Shermy._ ”), and tells him about his day _(“Drunks don’t give a shit about anything, I should fucking know, right?”)_

It’s 8 o’clock at night on his sixth day home. He’s lying on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. His breath catches in his throat when he hears the knock.

_Maybe it’s because he was falling asleep and it was unexpected. Maybe, somehow, he knew who was on the other side._

Sammy’s staring at the ground again, hands jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Sammy.” Ben sounds like he’s choking. He moves to the side and waves his shaking hand toward the living room.

Sammy’s eyes flick up briefly as he walks slowly into the house.

Ben grips the side of the couch and slowly tries to lower himself onto the cushion; he lets out a small gasp. Sammy’s arm is reaching out for his, lowering him gently into the seat.

Ben gives a half smile and they both sink into the couch. Sammy’s arm is still on his. His thumb is pressing flat again the underside of Ben’s wrist. He squeezes lightly.

“Sammy.. I…” his voice trembled.

Sammy’s hand is still bruised, he moves it down to Ben’s and shakes his head. “You’re a real asshole you know that?” He laughs as he says it.

Ben tries to talk, tries to apologize, and tries to say he’s sorry for everything. But when he opens his mouth to talk he doesn’t recognize the loud sob that escapes from it. And then he’s whispering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sammy doesn’t say a word. He just holds him, the same way Ben held him all those months ago.

After a few minutes, Ben takes a deep breath and looks at him.

“Just let me say it ok?”

He nods. His grip loosens and he turns to look him in the eye for the first time since the night on the rooftop.

“I was scared. I was selfish. It was fucking stupid. I never meant, I never meant for Nate… or for you. For you…” He stops.

Sammy’s hand is running up the side of his face.  He turns and looks at him. “I know." 

Sammy’s hand thumbs over Ben's jaw. He turns into it.

Sammy’s lips are on his, the second Ben’s face turns toward him.

It’s gentler than he expects. _(There is an expectation. There’s an expectation because he’s thought about it over and over.)_

Sammy’s lips move slower than he expects. It’s almost chaste. There’s no tongue, just slightly open mouths moving together.

Ben’s hands palm at his chest. He deepens the kiss.

Sammy pulls away but he’s still close enough for Ben to feel his breath.

Sammy’s eyes are dark and wide. He opens his mouth to speak but Ben’s covering it with his own.

This time, it’s exactly how he imagined it. _(He’s imagined it a lot, over, and over, and over.)_

Ben grabs his shoulders hard and pushes his mouth into his. His teeth catch on Sammy’s bottom lip.

Sammy pulls him in closer. He pushes back. His hands are grasping at Sammy roughly, he bites harder and grinds his hips into his.

Sammy laughs into Ben’s mouth and pulls away.

Ben swallows hard.

“Ben,” Sammy’s hand is resting gently above the bandage on his stomach. “You just got shot.”

He laughs uneasily and puts his hand over Sammy’s. “Ways around that.”

He slides himself off the couch and sinks down to his knees.

Sammy opens his mouth, looks like he’s about to protest. But Ben’s hand is already on his zipper and he’s already hard underneath Ben’s touch.

Ben’s looking directly into Sammy’s eyes when he takes him into his mouth. Sammy shut his and gasps as Ben licks him up and down.

Ben’s not sure exactly what he’s doing. He’s done this before, there’d be other guys.  Ben’s not sure what he’s doing, here, with Sammy.

He’s thought about it. _(over and over)_

_But not like this. Was this his penance, is that what he was doing? Begging for forgiveness with a cock in his mouth?_

Sammy’s breathing gets louder as Ben takes him in deeper, moving up and down at a steady pace. His hand twisting at the base.

Sammy moves his hands from his sides and threads one into Ben’s hair, the other gripping the base of his neck.

This makes Ben pick up the pace even more. It’s noisy, the sound of his wet mouth on Sammy’s wet dick and the slick sound makes Sammy let out a low, strangled moan.

Ben’s thought about it before. And every time it was rough, angry, quick and raw. Even before the videotape, that’s how he imagined it. _(over and over and over)_

But this is not that.

There’s something soft about the way Sammy grips his neck as he comes with a soft moan. There’s something almost tender and graceful about the way he hand stays there even after Ben takes his mouth away.

Sammy breaks the silence with a small laugh. “Never took you for such a…people-pleaser.”

Ben laughs too,he’s still on the floor, Sammy’s pants are still around his ankles. Sammy reaches out and pulls him up. Ben leans down over him and kisses him, hard. Sammy kisses back, pulling him closer.

Again, he’s the one to break apart. He grabs Ben’s arm and pulls him next to him.

It’s silent again. But Ben was always the silent type.

But he needs to talk. Maybe it’s not for Sammy, but for his own good. But he needs to say it.

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Especially you, never…Never you.”

Sammy laughs, there’s always been a sadness to his laugh. “Somebody always does. Nobody really plans for it.”

Ben looks at the floor. There’s a consistent guilt, even now , even after this. He probably deserves that.

“Don’t lie. That’s all I ask.” Sammy’s voice breaks.

“Ok.”

Ben was always the silent type. He grabs Sammy’s hand.

 

Later that night, Sammy helps him up to bed.

“You don’t have to leave” he whispers. Sammy pauses.

“But you don’t have to stay.” he continues.

“I know I don’t have to.” Sammy lays down next to him. 

 

They don't touch at first. Ben just lays there, breathing. Their backs are pressed firmly together. 

He turns slowly, his stomach aching from the pressure. He wraps his arms tight around Sammy's waist.

 

_He doesn't say a word._

 

 

 

 


End file.
